


Orbital Collide

by sciophyte



Series: let the sky fall [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Heroes of Olympus AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 21:19:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3303872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciophyte/pseuds/sciophyte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dark-haired stranger doesn't respond to Koutarou's proclamation. He steps forward again, slowly, deliberately, before shaking his head and turning around. Koutarou is hit full-force by the intensity of his expression. "What have you done?" He demands, although the severity of the question is lost to his measured tone (which Koutarou feels he's trying to keep ahold of) but made up for by his furrowed eyebrows and narrowed gaze. </p>
<p>In short, how Bokuto met Akaashi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orbital Collide

**Author's Note:**

> was writing the Demigods of Miyagi but got so sidetracked by bokuaka that I decided to write their backstory (or at least how it appears in my head)  
> i hope it's not too bad

It's the third night Koutarou's heard them. The monsters. Each time, they've sounded louder, as if they'd found a way of breaking through the protective magic barriers of his home (his father had managed to get a friend of his, a child of Hecate, to Mistify the home). There's a nagging little thread of worry in his head that this might be more serious than his father lets on. However, Koutarou's been raised in a safe and warm environment and he's never had to worry about danger, because his father has been a prime example of the modern-day warrior - courageous, charismatic, and with the connections to boot.  
  
He thinks to himself that everything's going to be fine as he hugs his bolster tighter and turns to the side, willing himself to back to sleep.

* * *

  
However, his sleep is short-lived. Koutarou thinks he's barely closed his eyes when a pair of calloused but warm hands latches onto his shoulder and pulls him upright. Koutarou blinks open his eyes only to see a frantic expression in the golden eyes in front of him. His father has never looked like this, not even during that time when he was deployed for what people now say was the most dangerous battle of the 21st century. Koutarou barely has time to think, this is it, maybe the world really is turning upside down, when his father thrusts a backpack into his hands and pushes his feet into his outdoor shoes (wait, isn't it bad to bring shoes past the entrance of the house), pulling him up from his futon and towards a trapdoor leading to the basement of the house.  
  
He didn't know their house had a basement.  
  
Koutarou is quiet for once, the reality of the situation having not sunk in yet. He numbly drags his feet in the direction his father is leading him towards. His father is talking, low and urgent, and Koutarou has to remind himself to pay attention.  
  
"Koutarou, remember that I once taught you how to use a compass? There's one in the backpack, recall how to use it, and follow it north until you reach a forest. You'll know which one it is. Look for the largest cave there. She'll help you.  
  
"Who's the 'she' you're talking about? Mother?" and then, "You're not going to bring me there?" Koutarou quickens his pace so he's next to his father and looks up. He knows it isn't really polite, but his father won't mind.  
  
His father looks away. "No, but I'm sure she'll protect you." If you prove yourself goes unsaid. They've walked quite a long distance, reaching another wooden door, and the basement door is but a distant memory. His father stops, crouches down so he's at eye level with Koutarou. "I shouldn't have tried to keep you with me for so long. It was selfish." It sounds self-berating and yet, a lament. It's another first. His father has never spoken like this before. Koutarou doesn't understand why his father is saying this, why his own unease is mirrored in his father's gold eyes. It's a sudden realisation that they're not sparkling gold as they had once been, not like his own, but marred by eyebags, making them look sickly and tired looking. His father continues, "You're a fighter, Koutarou. You'll be fine." It sounds like deja-vu.  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"They're not looking for me. It's you they can scent. I'm not as important to them as you are."  
  
Koutarou vaguely remembers what happened two years ago, when his father had sat him down at the dining table after he'd seen a rogue cyclops while playing in the garden and revealed who Koutarou actually was. He'd learnt that his father was a legacy of Athena, and that while that wasn't a problem, his own Greco-Roman blood had was potentially dangerous. "It won't happen. You'll be fine."  
  
His father opens the door before Koutarou can make another protest and lightly pushes him out. The surroundings outside are unfamiliar, shrouded in darkness, with the occasional glow of a street lamp in the distance. He doesn't know that what he's feeling is real fear, but adrenaline starts to kick in. "Run, Koutarou." It's a command.  
  
His legs move into action before he's properly thought about it. The door clicks shut behind him. Koutarou is safely away from his old home when he hears the howl of a monster. It sounds like disappointment.  
  
Koutarou thinks his father's going to be fine.

* * *

  
  
The sun steadily rises; the green glow-in-the-dark arrow on his compass turns to red. He's probably been going north for about 3 hours, fuelled by the adrenaline rush and also by the fact that he doesn't dare to stop, worried that the monsters will catch up to him. He's seen shadowy shapes in the side alleys as he walked on the brightest and largest main roads he could find in the suburbs. Koutarou might be bold, but he's not reckless. He knows it's stupid to waste his energy attacking these monsters that are probably twice his size, or larger.  
  
Though the adrenaline rush has waned by now. Slinging his bag towards the front, Koutarou pulls out some ambrosia squares in his bag to munch on. The taste of yakiniku lingers long after he has swallowed the bite of ambrosia. It's bittersweet, reminding him of the last meal his father cooked for him. He's hoping he'll be able to find a place to rest, even if it's just a park bench, but it's likely that the monsters will catch up to him. At the same time, he's reached a main road, one of those that connect the suburbs to the city central. It's quiet at this time to the day, too early for most people to start their trips. He could turn right, and follow the road towards the city, or turn left and follow the road further into the rural countryside. In front of him is a forest. It's strange, but if he could use a word to describe it, he'd describe the forest as inviting - trees in various shades of green casting lazy, dappled shadows on the dirt lead-strewn ground, backlit by the steady red-yellow gold of the rising sun. There's also a path, not particularly well-trodden nor dilapidated, but just on the right side of travelled.  
  
Of course, he could also turn back. Koutarou turns his head back to consider and sees shadows approaching, racing on the sides of the walls. That's out, then.  
  
It's a crossroads, and somehow or other, the thought that maybe the monsters camp out in the forest, maybe I'm walking right into their trap doesn't cross his mind as Koutarou takes a deep breath and walks straight ahead.


End file.
